


The Unrepentant, Unnecessary Feelings of a Vulcan Crush (That Absolutely Did Not Exist)

by Elise_Davidson



Series: 40 Snapshots [17]
Category: Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: 19. Acceptance, 40 Snapshots, And then Shran stakes his claim, M/M, Soval kinda has a crush on Archer, This ended up being much longer than it should have been, and has no idea what to do about it, omg I don't know where this came from
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-25
Updated: 2016-08-25
Packaged: 2018-08-10 21:41:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7862191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elise_Davidson/pseuds/Elise_Davidson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Soval knows he shouldn't let this feeling grow or twist or spiral.  But even at the edges of the calm waters of his mind, the place he has made for himself where emotions are but waves upon the ocean and eventually wane, he indulges.</p><p>This turns out to be a mistake.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Unrepentant, Unnecessary Feelings of a Vulcan Crush (That Absolutely Did Not Exist)

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so I'm not entirely sure where this even came from. It started off with me joking around with LegacySoulReaver, about how cute it would kind of be if Soval had this crush on Archer, but had no idea what human courtship rituals would even entail, so he would have no idea of how to proceed or if it was even worth it to risk the idea of bringing it up. So Soval kind of self-reflects a lot, talks to T'Pol a bit, notices how overworked the captain is and kinda risks touching Archer on the shoulder, but completely misses how Shran bucks against that action...
> 
> And in the end, Shran kinda confronts him and yeah.
> 
> Like I said, I don't know where the hell this even came from, other than the fact I've been marathoning Star Trek: Enterprise, and there was that one scene where Archer, Soval, and Shran are all in the same room talking about how compromise is just a decision that leaves everyone unhappy.
> 
> This was beta'd to hell and back by LegacySoulReaver; I had trouble getting the Vulcan diction/thought process down. Any remaining mistakes are my own. T-rating is mostly for red-light language.

  1. Acceptance



 

It didn’t start with any one particular thing, imprecise as the thought was.  It had been subtle and insidious, not unlike certain species tended to be in his long history of first contact situations and advisory capacity.

Soval stared at the stars from the balcony of the living quarters Starfleet had assigned him.  He had never been as one for deep self-reflection as other Vulcans were, but there was a certain allure to the sky tonight that seemed to pull his mind inward.  Perhaps it was because he knew he would be leaving for Vulcan the next morning for an extended stay (briefings and debriefings and checking in with the government overhaul—and if it felt like spying?  Well, _someone_ had asked him to check into it, and really, he owed that someone a rather sizeable debt).

His species was nothing if not direct with their private selves, and so he had the not-inconsiderable knowledge that his uneasy (and new) penchant for stargazing had less to do with returning to Vulcan and more to do with who was escorting him.

With High Command in a veritable upheaval, many Vulcan ships had been recalled, with others having apparently gone rogue.  Either way, with Soval’s open support for reform, he was a target.  Until High Command had been sorted out with some degree of rigidity, Vulcan ships simply weren’t safe.

That left members of the newly formed United Federation of Planets, very few of which Soval would trust—what was the Human colloquialism?—as far as he could carry?  No, that wasn’t quite correct.

Soval sighed, his hands folded in front.  The silk of his robes was a distracting, tactile sensation against his sensitive fingers.  It reminded him vaguely of his mate—Terrans would call T’Sel his wife—gone too soon and too long ago for him to remember the slide of delicate fingers against his.

He shook his head, a wholly human gesture that had garnered him some amusement from his Vulcan peers (and some concern from others that perhaps he had spent too much time in the Sol system).  It seemed to banish some of his more introspective thoughts, allowing him to focus on the hot ball of anxiety that curled in his chest.  Never one to be indirect ( _no, never_ , Commander Tucker would undoubtedly drawl), Soval re-entered his quarters (spacious and human in a way that had become somewhat comforting) to meditate on _why_ , exactly, seeing Captain Archer seemed to make these thoughts and emotions arise.

Oh, he had a fair suspicion, loathe though he was to admit he had any sorts of feelings that couldn’t be properly suppressed at all.  But with their long-standing, near-habitual animosity gone, the persistent feeling of fondness and…something else still lingered in the calm-water edge of Soval’s mind.

If Archer felt he same, the human was either completely oblivious to the recesses of his own mind and feelings or he simply detested the idea.

Soval didn’t often struggle to clear his mind, but tonight, it took more effort than was strictly required to chase away the question of what Archer’s fingers would feel like, pressed against his own in the traditional way.

But then, Archer may likely not be aware of Vulcan courtship practices, despite having possibly witnessed a small portion of it between his chief engineer and first officer.  It wasn’t as if the process differed all that much between a coupling of the same gender.

Perhaps T’Pol and Commander Tucker had used more human rituals, and if that was the case, Soval was definitely at a loss.  Despite discreet inquiries and his own research, Terran courtship rites were still an utter mystery.  Even Andorian practices were fairly obvious, while so many Vulcan relationships were determined at birth or early childhood.

Resigned and no more illuminated than he had been before meditating, Soval found himself exhausted and unable to concentrate on the problem any further.  He would get a good night’s rest and attempt to think on it in the morning.

As he lay in bed, another human saying floated into his consciousness—“easier said than done”.

It proved to be astonishingly accurate.

XXXX

The next morning turned out to be worse, against all odds, than the poor night of rest he had gotten the night before.  Though Vulcans required less sleep, Soval had already been sacrificing slumber the previous week to prepare for his trip back to Vulcan.  The fact his alarm clock had malfunctioned was also bothersome as he was now late to meet with Enterprise (he _absolutely_ did not sleep through it; it was the clock itself—Vulcan clocks were more accurate, as it were, and less prone to mistakes).

His mood went from poor to worse when he finally met with Archer, who had an unexpected guest in the form of one Thy’lek Shran—Soval couldn’t very well use a rank for the man, who rumor had it had been dismissed from the Imperial Guard.

Soval could practically feel his irritation rising, much to his chagrin, and knew it showed more than he could currently control in such a terrible mind space.  “Considering a career in Starfleet?  I’m sure they have something suitable for a dismissed Imperial Guardsman.”

Shran tilted a neutral stare at the obvious barb, though his antennae twitched forward of their own volition in offense.  “I resigned in order to take an extended leave at the request of Starfleet.”

Soval nodded, making sure the disbelief was as obvious as he dared.  “Of course,” he all but sneered, “My mistake.”  He turned to Archer, who looked as tired as he felt.  “Problems, Captain?”

Archer sighed and scrubbed a hand through his hair and across his face.  “Nothing about a week’s worth of sleep wouldn’t cure.”

“That sounds…excessive,” Soval responded just as he recalled the Terran penchant for exaggeration.

Shran snorted.  “You let your federation push you too hard, pinkskin.”  Soval noted with confusion the lack of real heat behind the insult—it was almost… _affectionate_?  “It’s not enough they still have you running 90% of their first contact missions, but then they drag you from deep space to escort an ambassador to a planet that’s practically a civil war zone—“

“I would hardly call it a war zone,” Soval interjected.

Shran’s eyes glittered with arrogance.  “Yet your fleet is so undecided as to who’s in charge, despite _all_ our federation memberships, that Starfleet agreed to the ludicrous request from _your_ government that the Enterprise was the _only_ acceptable neutral ship to accommodate you?”

Archer looked wearily between the two men, the lines of his face pinching at the sounds of their burgeoning argument.  “Gentleman,” he broke in, though his voice was barely a degree away from outright snapping, “We have a schedule to keep.”

Soval curiously saw a flash of shame cross Shran’s face before the Andorian glared at Soval himself, muttering something about “precious Vulcan timing”.  Soval declined to pursue it further in favor of stepping closer to Archer and hesitantly laying a hand on his shoulder.  The broad muscles felt hot beneath his fingers through the cloth of the uniform, and were also clearly knotted up with tension.

“Perhaps we should postpone this trip, Captain.  Briefings can be done over subspace,” Soval said in a voice that was almost gentle.

Archer looked surprised at the hand on his shoulder, and then ruefully tempted at the suggestion.  “I have my orders, Soval.  Starfleet was adamant when they told me to ask you—they want you on Vulcan.  We’ll be around—T’Pol has put together a list of— _hopefully_ friendly—societies to visit while we’re there.”

Soval gave an uncharacteristic sigh.  So, Starfleet really was pushing Archer, probably since the signing of the Federation charter.  He squeezed Archer’s shoulder and lowered his hand, his fingers brushing against Archer’s palm—he wished he could decide whether it was intentional or not.  “As you wish, Captain.”

He completely missed the way Shran’s eyes flashed with something indefinable as the blue fists clenched tightly.

Soval remained in his quarters as Enterprise went through routine launch procedures.  The abject exhaustion in the frame of Archer’s body made him agree (only an _iota’s_ worth) with Shran.

The Terrans had their tempting new charter to show off, and Archer was the one doing it.  The resentment that arose took him by surprise, as did the juvenile urge to butt his nose into what was very much the Starfleet matter of putting their prized captain into an early grave of stress and boredom.  The desire to protect underscored the entire tangle of suppressed emotion that licked eagerly against his lifelong training.

Soval sighed and once again, attempted to meditate.

It didn’t help.

XXXX

After speaking briefly with T’Pol, Soval sought out the captain to attempt to speak with alone.  The way his concentration and wild emotions were fluctuating was untenable, and something had to be done.  He could recall the tangible brush of his fingers against Archer’s callused palm, and had decided after meditating in his quarters that perhaps he could risk seeing how Archer felt about the potential shift in what relationship they did have.

Lieutenant Reed gave him an absent glance when asked where Archer might be found.  “You just missed him, I’m afraid.  His bridge shift ended about half an hour ago; Shran had to drag him away shortly after that.”  Reed’s slender fingers adjusted something on the console.  “If I had to guess, they’re possibly grabbing an early dinner.”

Soval nodded curtly.  “Thank you, Lieutenant.”  So, even if he did find Archer, that intransigent Andorian was likely with him again.  He steeled his temper and nerves against further interaction with Shran, because while he did want to speak with Archer (preferably alone), he refused to be a source of stress for the worn-out captain.

Soval didn’t find Archer in the mess hall or the captain’s dining quarters though.  Slightly puzzled, he walked the halls of the ship (which was absolutely _not_ due to an abruptly anxious and restless energy) until he found himself speaking with Sato, Acher’s communication’s officer (the one who kept insisting he call her _Hoshi_ ; he simply was not comfortable enough with the young lady to use her given name).

“Ambassador, I was actually hoping to run into you,” she greeted him cheerfully in Vulcan.  Her dialect practically yelled half that she was self-taught and the other more suited to some of T’Pol’s own regional inflection.  “I was hoping to practice my Vulcan with someone with a different dialect.”

Soval gave a tight, impatient smile.  “ _I_ was actually hoping to track down your captain.  Perhaps another time?”

Sato nodded, though the disappointment was evident on her eager face.  “Sure, I understand. I think I saw him and Shran heading for the gym; you could try there.”

Soval nodded his thanks and walked briskly for the recommended area.  He huffed internally, thinking it shouldn’t be this difficult to locate a starship captain _on his own ship_.

Upon arriving at the gym, reeking too strongly of human sweat ( _how did T’Pol become acclimated to this?_ ), it was only to find Ensign Mayweather, who shrugged and apologized; the captain had left ten minutes ago.

Deciding at this point it would just be better to wait until tomorrow, Soval resolutely headed for his quarters.  Some meditation and rest, that was what he needed—anything to banish the childish feelings of jealousy and abandonment he felt looming at the normally calm edges of his mind.  Vulcans did _not_ have juvenile feelings such as these.  He had overreacted to a hormonal reaction, a common flaw in humans.  He could overcome this and move past it with the right amount of focus, quiet, and (to borrow a Terran swear word, _more fucking_ ) meditation.

He slept no better with that lie kicking at his teeth than he had the night before.

XXXX

After three days of trying (unsuccessfully and almost pitifully at this point, and wasn’t _that_ made his skin go the color of an evergreen) to speak with Archer alone, Soval could only come to the inescapable conclusion that either Archer had grown a blue, vestigial twin attached to his person or Shran simply didn’t leave the man alone.  He still wasn’t sure which was more likely, given the Andorians having a similar personal space boundary to Vulcans.

It was a relief, then, when he and Archer sat down to dinner in the captain’s dining quarters with Shran nowhere to be seen.

Soval noted this with amusement.  “I was beginning to think you had a personal bodyguard.”

Archer looked slightly embarrassed, a faint blush darkening his tanned skin.  “He can be…” He waved his hand, trying and failing to come up with the desired word.  “Well, _him_.  He’s been acting as something of an Andorian liaison for the last couple of weeks, and he’s not thrilled with Starfleet’s schedule.  Or for first contacts to sometimes go so badly.”

Soval ignored the affection he felt at Archer’s pink-hued skin and naturally, he (of _course_ ) didn’t think of whether the skin would feel hotter than the cool flesh of his palm.  “We Vulcans tend to be somewhat more cautious in our first contact approach.”

Archer chuckled amusingly.  “So we’ve seen.  Well, Starfleet practices that same restraint, just not with a pretty new alliance giving us back-up when we had none before.  They should know better.”

Soval scoffed lightly.  “I would have thought Starfleet to be more logical than that.”

“Yeah, me too,” Archer murmured with a definite hint of bitterness.  “With Vulcan tying you up with government reform and still trying to keep a back-door eye on us, Andoria agreed to let Shran on Enterprise we could have another alien presence to ease first contact situations.  Not everyone’s been…that open to T’Pol.”

Soval bristled before he could stop it.  “Surely they might have considered someone as myself further?  I would think a more level head would be required for such occasions.”

Archer looked apologetic.  “They’re in no mood to hear _any_ Vulcan—not just you—tell them to exercise caution.  Not with the Charter ink still wet and societies other than Vulcan to try and acquire new technologies from.  That’s what the program “pays for” after all.”  Archer fiddled with his food, looking a strange combination of irate, bitter, and sad.  “They _want_ us to be a little impulsive right now.”

“Not all Vulcans are so guarded as those formerly in power,” Soval pointed out.  “So far as my urge to practice care when it came to your people exploring the galaxy, I was only trying to protect you from exactly what you are experiencing now.”

Archer looked slightly startled.  “Me or humanity in general?”

Soval didn’t respond right away, opting to slowly chew his food.  He hadn’t meant to be so careless with his choice of words.  He stared steadfastly at his water glass, choosing to not expound on his poor turn of phrase, though Archer seemed deeply curious and more interested in Soval than he had been in a long time for anything other than political reasons.  It made the curious twist of _something_ spiral into his gut.  Soval still didn’t respond; let Archer interpret what he would.

Soval already thought he had perhaps said too much.

But Archer didn’t respond either, going back to his plate with an air of…disappointment?  Regret?  Soval couldn’t be sure; he had never been adept at reading the emotions he worked so hard to repress.

Once dinner was finished, Soval found himself unable to deny the fond concern he held for Archer, and despite the fact he knew better, he let the emotion spike and grow.  He was nearly about to inquire directly about the captain’s health (physical or otherwise), and hope for another opening into why he exercised such restraint with Archer, when Archer was called to the bridge to speak with the captain of a Tellarite freighter.

Soval cursed inwardly as his inability to throw common sense out of an airlock as Archer smiled ruefully and left the room.

The words formed so clearly in his mind that he nearly choked on them.  _Come back; I was protecting_ you.

XXXX

T’Pol joined him for lunch the next day.  “You have been keeping to yourself,” she observed as she placed her napkin over her lap.

Soval smiled cordially enough but it felt fake.  “I had dinner with Captain Archer; that is hardly keeping to myself.”

T’Pol raised an eyebrow as if she were going to disagree, but she didn’t.  “Are you looking forward to returning to Vulcan?”

Soval ladled his spoon through his soup.  “I have to admit, not particularly.  I’m hardly the spy they seem to require.”

“Perhaps they simply want your opinion on how the current politics are forming.”

“I sincerely doubt I will be sitting in on any of _those_ panels,” he pointed out dryly and took a considering sip of tea that the Chef had recommended, seeing as T’Pol drank it often with no complaint.  “Archer looked more rested last night.  Has the first contact schedule been so all-encompassing?”

T’Pol seemed surprised at the abrupt inquiry and topic change.  “He takes too much responsibility to himself.  I don’t believe I have to remind you how many of these first contact scenarios end in hostility rather than peace.”

Soval nodded soberly.  “It has been difficult then?”

T’Pol ducked her head in affirmation.  “Not just on the captain; the crew as well.  It can be…wearisome, dealing with non-stop threats.”

“I don’t imagine Shran has made things any easier,” Soval muttered, temper creeping into his tone before he could stop it.  He stiffened in realization of how _emotional_ he must have sounded, but T’Pol merely tilted her head in thought at his statement.

“I would venture to say that Shran has been helpful in some ways.  He is able to talk down some of the more hostile species Vulcan would avoid.”

Soval frowned.  “You imply we are cowards.”

T’Pol dropped one shoulder in a parody of a shrug.  “Perhaps in some ways, we are.”

It made Soval’s focus shine directly on the fact he felt… _something_ for the captain, but was inexplicably uncertain of how to proceed.  It was nothing more than a simple risk-benefit ratio, and currently, what the information he did possess, the risk was more than likely not worth the benefit.

“Ambassador?”

Soval looked up from his reverie.  “I was thinking; my apologies for my inattention.”

“Think nothing of it; I simply said that I meant no offense.”

Soval waved her off.  “I took none.  If you’ll excuse me.”  He nodded politely, if stiffly, at her, and made to leave.

“Ambassador,” T’Pol said quietly but firmly in Vulcan.

Soval sat back down.  She gazed at him, the calculation behind it making him feel more exposed than he thought a simple stare could ever accomplish.  “Was there something else?”

She let out a soft sigh and shook her head so minutely that he wasn’t sure he had seen it.  “No, I don’t believe so.”

Feeling unsettled and scrutinized, Soval left more quickly than he would have preferred.

XXXX

There was only one observation deck on Enterprise, so far as Soval knew, and he went to it because it seemed to be rarely visited by the crew, who seemed to see enough through other windows or the mess hall to be bothered with an observation deck that was likely reserved for foreign dignitaries.

He had been attempting to have some quiet reflection on the events since coming onto Archer’s ship, of his own feelings (or lack thereof, should he so choose) when he felt a presence intruding into his isolation.  He softly sighed in irritation as he began to head for the exit.

“Oh, don’t leave on my account, Ambassador,” came Shran’s laconic voice.

Without time to prepare himself to deal with the interaction, Shran’s voice immediately set Soval on edge.  “Shran,” he greeted tersely.  “I was just leaving.”

“That’s a shame,” Shran responded, and his voice was so… _amiable_ that it made Soval want to physically lash out.  “I was hoping to speak with you, actually.”

If Soval hadn’t been so focused on the steel he heard and recognized with relief underlying Shran’s friendly voice, he might have heard the alarm sounding that those were exceptionally similar to the words he had exchanged with Sato.  “Make it brief; I was about to retire to my quarters.”

Shran’s antennae tightened back.  “It’s a small ship, Ambassador,” and his voice got harder, “It’s hardly a secret you’ve been after the captain’s well-being, his mental health.”  The friendliness was now completely absent.  “You need not concern yourself with such matters—the pinkskin is well-cared for.”

Soval scoffed.  “You make him sound like a pet.  I’m to take _your_ word for it?  Someone who would continually refer to him by such a derisive—“

Shran stepped into Soval’s space, close enough that their noses were nearly touching and causing Soval’s voice to reluctantly stop in his throat.  Shran smiled menacingly.  “ _Yes_ , Soval—and my word on his well-being is the one you _should_ trust.  You think I’m here for my health?”

Soval took a step away, the words slowly sinking in as if ice water were trickling slowly down his spine.  He couldn’t stop the ivy-colored flush of embarrassment staining his neck and high on his cheekbones, couldn’t force away the rejection and stupidity of what he had _thought_ could have happened from turning to lava in his veins.

“So let me make this as clear as Andorian crystal,” Shran continued, his voice harder than duranium, “I am not here because I wanted to play at being Starfleet’s newest pet alien puppet.  I am not here for exploration.  I am here for _him_.”

Shran was gone before Soval could even start to consider a rebuttal.

The feelings threatened to drown him, drag him down into the violent ancestry of his heritage, acceptance that at their core, perhaps the Vulcans of this century were not all that different from their genealogical counterparts.

The real acceptance came much later when he was alone in his old house on Vulcan, hearing old voices of caution and subtlety.  He let them wrap around him, taking comfort in their logical numbness, until he was isolated once more from the feelings that threatened to bury him.

xxFINxx

**Author's Note:**

> So, I do just wanna end this by saying I don't normally write stuff like this--the whole unrequited love thing, but yeah...what started as a funny cute sorta sleepy idea shared at 6:30 in the morning turned into something wholly more angsty than I was prepared for but desperately wanted to finish.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed all the same, despite the tame rating.


End file.
